Telephasic Workshop
by bunnypopcorn
Summary: AU. When Craig graduated high school and started working as a teacher, he discovered Stan. Immediately Stan intrigued him. There were no rules, or given variable values, or even directions as to what he was even trying to find out. Onesided CraigxStan
1. Prologue: null

Duh hayloo. New fanfic here! This time it's one-sided CraigxStan; something I've never done before! The title of this fanfiction, Telephasic Workshop, is a Boards of Canada song. Go check it out if you haven't already!

**Big fat warning**: This fanfiction deals with **character death**, **gore**, and pretty **disturbing thoughts and actions** (which all comes later, but the latter does come much sooner than the others). Please leave if you can't stomach this kind of reading material.

**Less fat warning**: In this fanfiction, all the characters are in their _20s_ and are all _high school teachers_. Craig is a math teacher, and Stan is an English teacher. I _really_ hope this doesn't discourage anyone from reading. Please at least give it a shot!

**Note**: The names of chapters to come are going to be **_riddles_** (including this one). Do give them a shot! (and add your answer into your review for extra points!)

Disclaimer: Don't own South Park or Boards of Canada.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Telephasic Workshop<span>**

Prologue: null

* * *

><p>When Craig was a 8-years old, his putrid chunk of a teacher introduced to the third grade class multiplication for the first time. When she'd ambled down the rows of desks handing out poorly photocopied multiplication tables, Craig had been as neutral to math as every other child in the room. But the moment Craig received his copy, his eyebrows furrowed as if he'd received a blank sheet.<p>

He soon learned that he'd been given such an awful thing because he was supposed to memorize all that was on it. "Bo-oring", Craig mumbled under his breath, and started to engrain the numbers and their relations in his little mind.

In a few days' time, Craig could blurt out the answer to any question on the times table sheet before the teacher could even finish asking the question. There really was nothing to it, Craig had realized, after the process of memorizing it. And then division was introduced in due time, which gave Craig a false hope, as he soon realized it was only multiplication backwards.

Multiplication and division were always excruciatingly repetitive and the same. He always knew the answer, with no work involved whatsoever.

Multiplication and division were boring.

* * *

><p>When Craig was 10-years old, his mean old politically correct teacher wrote on the board at the beginning of class a term he was not familiar with: "fractions". When the teacher had merely uttered the words "multiplication" and "division", Craig had nearly screamed. To go through such a hell again would be devastating for the boy.<p>

But then he learned that there were new rules that came with multiplying and dividing fractions, and that was exciting. Simple things such as the concept of crossing-out and making the second fraction its reciprocal to divide, added the element of change. And little Craig enjoyed it so.

Craig liked fractions for the time being, before those became repetitive as well.

The introduction of decimals that followed gave Craig a false hope once again. Decimals were worse than fractions; they were basically multiplying and dividing whole numbers but with a dot that moved around within the thing. It was preposterous to Craig that the education ministry decided to put a 2-year gap in-between the concepts of multiplying and dividing, and multiplying and dividing decimals.

Fractions and decimals were boring.

* * *

><p>When Craig was 17-years old, he was tired of irrational simple maths that were the same through and through. Expanding in eighth grade and then factoring in tenth? It was like grades three through to five all over again. The concept of parabolas was unusually fascinating though, but he was irritated that it was only one unit before they returned to factoring again.<p>

When Craig was in the 12th grade, he took calculus and vectors, hoping it'd provide for him somewhat of a challenge. At first glance it was once again just lines and lines of numbers, signs, and variables. He was annoyed until he was taught that this time it meant something beyond just lines of numbers, signs, and variables. They were pictures. It was like the concept of parabolas increased tenfold. It was exciting.

Craig was never ever really good at art, nor did he enjoy really at all, unless it was in comic book form or something that didn't include him doing the drawing. But with calculus and vectors he realized he was the best artist in his class. He could scribble down lines of numbers and variables faster than anybody. He knew how to write the equation of a perfect logarithmic spiral, or a never-once-converging oscillation. They went on for infinity; something you can't physically draw free hand.

Math was art at a godly degree.

But then Craig memorized the formulas for logarithmic spirals, and perfect oscillations, and even the Mandelbrot and Julia sets. He was bored.

Calculus and vectors were boring.


	2. Ad 1

Hello again! Today's my last day in Canada for a while. I'm gonna be going to my land of birth, China, for a good month or so. Don't expect updates! Communism and blocked sites and all that jazz.

And also, Becks was the first one to correctly answer the riddle in the prologue title! _Yay!_ So she gets an _honorable mention _(_My stars!_ Who doesn't want one of _those?_). I won't reveal the answer here in case people still wanna give it a shot, but if you do wanna see the answer, look in the reviews. But can you guess _this_ chapter's title riddle?

**Note**: Craig teaches in a portable classroom. He doesn't like Clyde very much.

If at any point you are confused with what's happening in the fanfiction, please resort to the notes/warnings I put prior to this chapter or the prologue.

**Big fat warning**: This fanfiction deals with **character death**, **gore**, and pretty **disturbing thoughts and actions.**

Disclaimer: Don't own South Park or Boards of Canada.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Telephasic Workshop<span>**

Chapter 1: Ad #1

* * *

><p>Craig likes math because even though there's different ways of doing a problem, there is always only one definite answer.<p>

Craig likes Stan because under that contradictory exterior and countenance that never truly reflects his present emotions, he knows there's just one answer. He wants to try all the different methods of finding it.

When Craig invites himself into Kenny's classroom, or Pip's classroom, or even, god forbid, Clyde's classroom, he will always scan the board for an unsolved stale math question the students in the class prior didn't feel like working out. He shuts it in his mind, and will ask for whatever he came for, while making some attempt at idle pratter so he doesn't come off as too much of an all-work-type guy. But behind the idle pratter, he solves the math problem in his head. He can't not, when he sees one.

Every math problem he sees appears to be fleshed over by some unnecessary tarn of a coat, and Craig wants to take it off. He wants to expand it, redraw it in a different form, and sand it down to the last line where it is not the baffling question it once was and now lays in a neat heap of an answer, stripped of its mystery and what once gave it majesty over whoever took a gander upon it.

It's no different with Stan.

* * *

><p>Craig knows that Stan arrives at the school at around 8:10, which is why Craig always comes at 8:00 sharp so he can duck outside of his portable classroom and see his car rolling into the parking lot. Craig knows that a few minutes before first period begins, Stan is always in the staff room brewing for himself his morning tea. That's why Craig is always there too; doing something one wouldn't normally do in the staff room, like marking tests and such. Craig knows that Stan sticks around the school for about until 5:00 everyday, usually because he never hesitates to lend a hand to anyone who enters seeking essay-writing help or the sort. Craig knows Stan's everyday routine.<p>

Craig needs to know where Stan is at all times, and why.

Sometimes Craig walks down the hall past Stan, because he knew he'd be coming that way. Oftentimes he'll initiate a casual conversation, but always gets a thrill when Stan's the one who does it. Craig had never paid attention in psychology class in high school, but he could always coax personal information from Stan through his subconscious. Craig always studied the question before he solved it.

Why, just last week Craig had bugged Stan's classroom so he had a full-on view of him in his classroom 24/7. Stan had taken a sudden interest in allegorical novels this recent, Craig noted; he was already finished with East of Eden and Animal Farm, and was now halfway through The Pilgrim's Progress. It deeply intrigued Craig that Stan could get so engrossed in Christian literature when he believed it all to be namby-pamby nonsense.

The miniature television is in his desk drawer. Craig watches it whenever he feels fit, with great enjoyment whether his prey is reading or working or is swooning over a new porn site he recently found that was unscrupulous enough to be unblocked. Every night, at some point during his TV sessions, he'll eventually turn it off, and then open his desk's other drawer and sift through pens and pencils and rulers and calculators until he sees it.

A utility knife.

And a sigh of relief sounds throughout the classroom, followed by the wooden sound of the drawer being closed again.

* * *

><p><span>Afternote:<span> I've had this question raised before, and I only realized it was plausible after it was asked. But let me make it clear; **Craig is not a cutter**. The knife plays a role later, but he's not cutting himself.


	3. Thyme's Too

Hello hello hello! Tomorrow's my last day in Canada (for serious this time LOL). I'm not sure if I'll be able to get to a computer when I'm in China, but I'll try to get to an Internet Cafe or something. Has anybody noticed? I update every time I reach another 10 reviews. I know it's an asshole move, but I never feel motivated if it feels like nobody's reading it. You get what I mean, right?

Thanks very much to **Anonymous Void** for pointing out a punctuation mistake I was not aware I was making. I'll try to correct it from now on!

**Nobody** won last chapter's title riddle! :[ Well, let's see if we can get it this chapter! (When the whole story's is over, I'll post the answers to all the riddles at the end, so don't worry!)

**Notes**: Craig teaches in a portable classroom.  
>He doesn't like Clyde very much.<br>The students named in this chapter are canon kindergartners from the show (and in this fanfiction are in their teens).  
>Georgie is Kindergoth, for those who aren't familiar with the goths' fan-given names.<p>

**Warning**: I'm sorry, I should've mentioned this before. **This fanfiction contains loads of Clyde-bashing**.

**Big fat warning**: This fanfiction deals with **character death**, **gore**, and pretty **disturbing thoughts and actions.**

Disclaimer: Don't own South Park or Boards of Canada.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Telephasic Workshop<span>**

Chapter 2: Thyme's Too

* * *

><p>Ike multiplied this wrong.<p>

Filmore completely forgot the formula.

And Georgie _clearly_ doesn't understand this entire chapter.

It baffles Craig how students can be at this age and still incorrectly multiply. Then it _further_ baffles, almost intrigues him, how they can even go as far as forgetting the formula. And with the children who can't even comprehend the concept of factoring on its own, Craig is bewildered that they can expand yet not factor. Something at the back of his head tells him it's a conspiracy, but then he inwardly laughs at himself for such a thought and tells himself he's been at the comics too much this recent; the children simply have mental unbalance at its best.

He's stuck in the middle of trying to lessen the heap of 'finished' hopeless tests on his desk. It is absolutely a lost cause, Craig knows, to teach those who haven't a brain. He sometimes honestly wonders how they learned to walk, or how they learned the English language. It's a mystery.

He can hear the door to the room swish open as someone has decided to enter without knocking; nobody ever does, of course. And it is simply _great_. Craig really doesn't think he should have to put up with more irritant children asking for help about questionably stupid things like 'why this variable does what it does' or 'what do you do after you've done this'.

He never knows what exactly to say othis than '_because_ math works that way', or 'keep doing it until you have the answer'. He knows it's not proper of him, as a teacher, to say such things, but he doesn't believe in 'teaching methods' like explaining every excruciating step again, or doing the question for them, thinking their thick skulls could get it through. It was all common sense anyways; thise was no need for further explanation after the first time around.

The intruder pops through the open door like some kind of stupid prairie dog. He glances up for a split second to see if it's someone worth explaining material to. Oh, it's just Clyde, the science teacher. Someone who understands math concepts at least; not very well though, but better than the rascals in his classes, and Craig acknowledges it.

"Hi, Craig!" he says, his slight nervousness evident in his tone of voice; he's now not a prairie dog anymore and is sauntering towards his desk. He's a busy man; he keeps his eyes on the tests as he murmurs only barely an audible "hey".

"Um," he starts, smiling through his words, he can tell, and fidgeting a bit, "have you seen Stan?".

The name sends chills up his backside, and his mouth is suddenly dry. The pen in his hand stills, and he snaps his head up to look at Clyde with the expression a hunter wears after he's spotted his prey. Clyde's eyes catch his and his fidgeting freezes in position.

_'He's usually in the washroom at this time, because he's always in the staff room an hour before his first class to get his tea. Then he'll drink it between regular intervals in his first two classes. And then right before his third class he's usually got to take a piss. Maybe he's out now though; go check and leave me alone. I'm a busy man.'_

But instead he meets him with, "Iunno," and a brief shrug.

He's supposed to be a bit disappointed, thank him, and then be on his way. Instead, he rolls his eyes a bit, sporting a small smile, and then remarks, "Craig, you never know where othis teachers are!" with giggle in his voice nearing the end. Craig guesses he's talking about past instances where he asked him about the whereabouts of the othis teachers, to which he replied the same to, even though Craig doesn't seem to recall this. He doesn't like to store things in his memory that aren't important.

Craig shifts his eyes away for a split second as if for a moment he found this conversation profoundly useless, but then replies "...Well, yeah, I guess so," expression stoically blank. He doesn't know what else would be fit for an answer. He simply wants this conversation over as quick as humanly possible because all he wants is quality time with the heap of tests still sitting on his desk.

He immediately realizes his reply was _not_ the best way to reach an end, because Clyde finds his answer strangely humorous and he inwardly giggles his too excessively used giggles. "You're so reserved all the time!" he says as if he's new to it and it's odd to his, "Can't you open up a little bit more?" he asks with a squeal at the end of the sentence that Craig picks up only because his ears are not used to sounds so absurdly high and unnecessary.

Craig hasn't even begun his bewildered "umm" before Clyde interrupts with an unnecessary "_Pleeease!_" that reminds him of his little sister Ruby. Except it's cute when Ruby does it. It is mildly disturbing when a man about the same age as Craig himself is doing the same thing. He doesn't know if he should answer 'yes' to a somewhat rhetorical question like "can't you open up a little bit more'. He's just wondering why Clyde's still in the room.

Then his thought isn't even complete before Clyde decides to open his trap yet again and this time it's something a complete topic shift out of nowhere, "Is that a new shirt?". His mind is still on the previous topic and so his confused expression lingers before he realizes what's been asked and dumbly responds, "Yeah". He's still wondering why he's still in the room.

"Let me see!" he says out of the blue as if he's not looking at it already, and reaches out to touch it, as if the process of '_seeing_' requires the need to touch. Craig doesn't mind it much, but it is terribly quiet while he's feeling his shirt, and he's still wondering why he's still in the room.

Then he realizes it. Oh, he knows what he's trying to do. This inane idea called '_flirting_' which he disdains so much, and now that he's realized that's what he's trying to achieve, he is further exceedingly uncomfortable with the situation. He's _still_ got his fingers on his shirt, and he thinks this whole situation is possibly the most innocuous thing he's ever seen.

But he lets him, because the poor guy should get his way at least once, because of all the smack he takes from the children, which he hears about.

Though that doesn't mean he likes him any more than before. Perhaps less. How incredibly ridiculous to be feeling one's shirt for _this_ long. He would be more uncomfortable at the dire creepiness of the situation than already is, but he reminds himself that he's the one who _bugged_ Stan's classroom.

But it's disgusting to Craig how open Clyde is about his feelings. He can flirt so easily like it's second nature; like it makes complete sense to just display your emotions like they're free candy. So revolting, it's like an already solved math served to him expecting to be solved. It is already stripped of its mystery and majesty as if it was never there, and it is utterly, utterly boring. Craig thinks he's spent too long just lagging around the already solved question, and it's bothering him.

"Um, Clyde, I have work to do," is all Craig says, and hopes he'll unhand his shirt immediately and vamoose, without beating around the bush or making last-minute comments about...his _hair_ or something else he's suddenly taken interest to. "Oh... okay," he says slowly, the hidden disappointment slips through a bit, and thank god, he lets go of the shirt at long last. He moves to the door agonizingly slowly almost; an almost laughable contrast to how fast he'd moved from the door to Craig's desk before.

When he's finally disappeared through the door with a '_click_', he makes a low sound of disgust regurgitated from the base of his throat, and slumps back into his chair. So meaningless. So completely illogical.

When he's done lamenting the loss of time momentum in that asinine conversation, he sits up and open his desk drawer. He sifts through pens and pencils and rulers and calculators until his eyes land on the utility knife again.

And a sigh of relief sounds through the room, followed by the wooden sound of the drawer being closed again.

* * *

><p><span>Afternote<span>: And that's really only the beginning of the Clyde hate. Seriously, it will get so much worse. I don't have anything against Clyde; maybe I just like being mean to him, but I do like him :).


	4. One's Pie

Hello again! This chapter briefly mentions the financial issues that _Blockbuster_ has been having; they're on the brink of bankruptcy, so I thought I'd pay my sympathies by giving them a cameo. I'm _so_ nice.

It's been a while since my last update on this and I've already kinda acknowledged that not many people are into this kind of fanfiction, but that's fine. I know there's still people who do read this. So I'll try to finish it for those of you who like it.

**Notes**: Stan really likes tea. This will play a bit of a role later, but not really (ignore how that doesn't really make sense).

**Big fat warning**: **Character death, gore, disturbing thoughts and actions, heavy Clyde bashing.**

Disclaimer: Don't own South Park or Boards of Canada.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Telephasic Workshop<span>**

Chapter 3: One's Pie

* * *

><p>Craig's marking tests in the staff room again. But he isn't really. It's something more like pretending to inspect the tests while in reality sneaking glances at Stan across the room. He is incredibly sweet-looking when he tries to make tea with the coffee machine, and even though he's been doing it everyday since his first day working here, he obviously <em>still <em>doesn't know how to fully operate it. The coffee machine is used so many times in a day that it's not the champ it once was. Craig wants to laugh aloud when Stan looks at it with such an adorably confused expression when it refuses to work, but he'd be blowing his own cover. Craig is supposed to be marking tests and pretending he doesn't know Stan is in the room.

Being in the same room as Stan is strangling for him. Especially when it's only the two of them in such an enclosed space. The room always seems _much_ much smaller when it's only the two of them. Craig is always there in the morning, because he knows Stan will inevitably show up to tackle the coffee machine like he does daily. And Stan is always so engrossed in getting the thing to work that he never realizes he's being watched. Craig sometimes feels compelled to walk up and help his secret admiree, but where's the fun in that? Watching him struggle is _deliciously _beautiful.

The sound of the doorknob turning echoes as if the room is vacant, because it might as well be with the silence that's only pierced with Stan's quiet tinkering with the machine.

Craig doesn't like when people come into the staff room to disrupt the peace when it's only Stan and him, and he makes a noise of disapproval quiet enough for it to not reach Stan's tentative ears. Simultaneously, both he and Stan look up from their work (not that Craig was actually marking anything, and not that Stan was doing anything particularly productive either). It's Kenny. A friendly face to them both; to anyone in the school.

"Hi, Kenny," Stan says almost quickly, seemingly very distracted, and then looks back at the coffee machine to resume his work. "Hey," Kenny greets casually, glancing at him, and then back at his phone because he was in the process of checking his texts prior to entering the staff room. Kenny's eyes flick up at Craig for a split second and then back to his phone, "Hey Craig", he says, his _RAZR _screen reflected in the whites of his eyes.

"_Hey,_" Craig says quietly, trying to hide the sneer in his voice. He always has to be more subtle about watching Stan when someone else is in the room, even if it's such a good sport like Kenny, and it's such a pain. It's like trying to answer a math question in secret with someone looming over you.

Suddenly the problem of being caught watching Stan is eliminated when Stan looks behind his shoulder to scan the room helplessly, and Craig's eyes flicker away from him back to the tests before Stan can realize that he'd been looking at him. He guesses Stan must think he's busy looking at the tests, so he hears Stan say, "Uh, hey Kenny, the coffee machine's not cooperating; wanna give me a hand?".

_Curses_; the tests were the death of him. Not an aid.

His narrowed eyes follow Kenny as he looks up from his phone over his shoulder, "Hm? Sure". He saunters over to Stan, and it's when Kenny inadvertently presses his body against Stan's back to peer at his handiwork that Craig suddenly feels nauseous and swerves his line of vision back to the tests.

There is a moment of silence as Kenny fiddles with the difficult machine for a few seconds time that feels like minutes to Craig, who doesn't dare look up. He fears that if he does, he might seem Stan and Kenny both in some worse sexual position, whilst both oblivious to it, that could cause him to lose his sanity.

"There, now let's see if it...", Kenny trails off as he looks behind the machine for the switch, "...works...".

_Click._

The machine makes a healthy-sounding gurgle.

Stan makes a faux gasp, and Craig shudders because it is too precious. "_Wow!_ That's amazing! I can _never_ get this thing to work!", Stan exclaims in excessive praise (_too _excessive, Craig fancies) and for a second Craig is terrified that Stan is so amazed he'd dare to hug him. He glances up from the tests subtly because he can't resist the urge, and sighs inaudibly. He thanks whatever divine being is watching over him, because they're not even making contact at this point.

But Craig is livid. It's partly why Stan's such a fool that Craig wants to smother him with kisses, but right now Stan's stupidity only has Craig twitching to smack him upside the head. Why was he treating Kenny like some kind of _god _just because he fixed the coffee machine? Craig was just as capable; maybe even more so than Kenny. Then he remembers that the only reason Stan hadn't requested help from him was because he figured Craig was too busy marking tests. Again, he curses the tests.

He is interrupted mid-mental curse when the door knob twists again. The door opens enough for the second intruder to pop its head through, like a _stupid_ prairie dog. And it is, of course, none other than Clyde. Craig's eyes glance back to Stan and Kenny for reassurance that they're not trying any funny business, and when he sees Stan cheerily watching the fully operating coffee machine, and Kenny's head in the fridge looking for _Gatorade _or something, he inwardly breathes a sigh of relief.

Then from his peripheral vision, he sees Clyde scan the room until her eyes land on Craig himself. He clears his throat uncomfortably and swiftly looks down at his tests so as to look far too busy to converse at all. From his peripheral he sees him pause and then turn to Stan instead. Craig frowns and then ponders which he'd rather.

The tests are suddenly forgotten though, when he looks up and sees Stan greet Clyde sickeningly sweetly, and Craig tells himself that he's only in a good mood because of the coffee machine, _not_ because of Clyde. But as he watches the conversation discreetly whilst _looking_ like he's marking tests, the bubbling mass of irritation grows in his stomach tenfold, because he realizes that even Stan doesn't get _this _cheery over a working coffee machine.

Stan is always open about his family matters, and whatever ridiculous antic he got caught up in last weekend, because he's Stan, and he always has a story to tell. Yet when he converses with Clyde, his stories are nowhere to be heard, nor his silly random jabs about Terrance and Philip or Chinpokomon. Stan is reduced to casual topics, such as "the Blockbuster near my house closed yesterday", whilst doing something to keep his hands busy, like twiddling his thumbs or shoving them into the bottom of his pockets. Unable to bring up any of his usual chatter because he's much too distracted. Much too nervous.

Because Stan has a crush on Clyde.

And the very thought makes Craig livid. He should really just kill Clyde. But then he tells himself no, Stan likes Clyde; he would be very upset with Craig if he killed him, and even if Craig did a clean job of hiding his tracks, Stan would definitely spend months moping about it. Stan doesn't deserve to go through that.

"How's that cat you picked up near Tweak Bros. a few days ago?", Craig hears Clyde ask Stan, and wakes Craig from his train of thought. Stan picked up a cat by Tweek's parents' coffee shop? He didn't know that.

"She's doing alright; I named her Hopeful," he says sweetly, and Craig has to smile at just how childish he sounds, and he finds it adorable that he'd name his picked up, probably disease-housing cat after one of the main characters in _The Pilgrim's Progress_.

He mentally takes a note on it, and then reluctantly thanks Clyde in his mind for coaxing the information for him, even though Clyde doesn't know it.

Then he realizes; Stan has a crush on Clyde... that means Clyde is, without a doubt, the one that Stan wouldn't hesitate to disclose personal information to. And since _Clyde_ visibly has a crush on _Craig_, this could become a bit of an information relay race. _Clyde_ is the gateway to _Stan_.

And with that, Craig decides that he is going to become closer friends with Clyde than anyone else in his life.

* * *

><p>That night, Craig sits alone in his portable classroom at his desk. The passing thought of the utility knife flashes through his mind, but he decides against it.<p>

He doesn't feel up to it.


	5. The Hundredth Pie

**FOR STOLOVAN FANS**: Most of you don't know this, but I'm more of an artist than a writer, and I'm making a small **Stolovan doujinshi** called Bliss On My Fingertips. I'll put the link in my profile for those of you who want to check it out.

**Big fat warning**: **Character death, gore, disturbing thoughts and actions, heavy Clyde bashing.**

Disclaimer: Don't own South Park or Boards of Canada.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Telephasic Workshop<span>**

Chapter 4: The Hundredth Pie

* * *

><p>It's been three months since Craig's decision to become closer to Clyde than anyone else involved in his life. And as intolerable and bothersome he can be to talk to, he reminds himself on a daily basis that his sole reason for all of this is that in the end, he'll know every detail about Stan. And what will become of Clyde after he gets what he wants? Well, he won't need him anymore. But Craig spends no time pondering about how he's going to get him out of his hair when the time comes, because he's not worth thinking about. He never wastes time thinking about stupid math questions.<p>

Craig has become excruciatingly close to Clyde. Craig doesn't remember what grades he got in drama when he was in highschool, but he's now fully convinced that whatever he received in his report card back then was completely null and void now. His acting is much more credible than anyone would think if they knew him, even to Craig himself. So magnificent that students are even spreading rumors about an affair. And whenever Craig catches wind from the direction of the students about an affair between he and Clyde, he mentally pats himself on the back and tells himself he's done well. _Perfect_, even.

And the steady flow of Stan information has never once made Craig regret his actions. Craig will always willingly make idle pratter with Clyde as long as he can subtly bring up Stan in their conversation, and somehow lure out interesting facts through his subconscious.

"What're you doing this weekend, Clyde?"

"Mm, going to be busy marking tests"

"Oh, that's too bad; I wanted to go shopping for books but I thought I should bring someone along to make recommendations. I'm kind of a stranger to the book scene," he gives a small laugh to enhance the performance.

"Ah, well, I'm sorry... I can't go"

"Do you know if any of the others can?"

"Umm... Pip is going back to Britain for a bit because of family matters, I think. As for Kyle... Ike's got the flu. Stan's cousin is visiting so he'll be busy showing him around. Oh, how about Kenny? His girlfriend Tammy will be there but I think he's okay with bringing her along".

Bingo. So that's what Stan's doing over the weekend.

And that's how it carried on for many moons. A symbiotic friendship between the two, where Craig can find out as much as he wants about Stan, and Clyde gets to talk to him, because he likes him anyways. And Craig thanks whatever divine being there is watching over him, because the scenario could not have worked any better had Clyde not liked him to such a degree.

* * *

><p>It's April 29th, 2011. The South Park High basketball tournament.<p>

The annual sports event where teachers get to participate with the students.

And Craig has it specially marked down on his calendar not because he's particularly eager to run around with a bunch of sweaty children, but because he gets to see _Stan _run around with a bunch of sweaty children.

But there's a bit of underlying disappointment that Craig tries his best to push into the back of his mind, and that is that when he inspected the list of teams that would be playing against each other, he wasn't on Stan's team nor playing against. That would've given him a perfectly legitimate excuse to throw his body against his. And obviously people would call him out for being rough, but with a few words like, "I slipped," and, "I'm sorry," he knew Stan would just smile and say, "It's cool, man".

But that'll never happen, because Stan's in pool A, and he's in pool B. He mentally waves it off; it's no use visualizing scenarios that can't happen. Besides, Craig can still sit on the sidelines and watch him. It almost makes up for it. And then obviously during games where neither of their teams are up, Craig can have a seat beside Stan and get direct information about his little math question without using Clyde as an annoying USB.

It's noisy in the court, and it reeks of body odor. Craig is thoroughly distracted from his game by Stan, who's engrossed in his own game in the other court beside his, games seperated by a glass wall.

The buzzer signifying that both games are over sounds, and Craig realizes he isn't even aware if his team has won or lost. He surveys his teammates' faces, who look quite disappointed, and he too feigns disappointment, patting his sweat off his face with his gym shirt. In reality he's watching Stan through the glass on the other court, cheering and high-fiving his teammates, and Craig takes care to cover his face with his shirt before grinning.

He looks back at Stan and sees him plop down on the bench, still smiling proudly at his team's win. Craig doesn't hesitate to stroll on over, except his "stroll" is more of a worn-out, tired trudge that he makes look energetic at the same time, because he really is excited to talk to him.

"Hey"

* * *

><p>The buzzer sounds, and it reminds Stan that he's up next too, "Oh, that's for me. I'll talk to you later, 'kay?", and doesn't wait for a response. Craig watches him jog off to his end of the court and greet his teammates, and in due time he gets up to go back to his own court on the other side of glass. A better view of Stan from there.<p>

He takes a seat on the bench beside some stupid kid, and looks up at Stan across the other court through the glass. He's still gloating about his previous win, and Craig smiles and wonders if Stan really is the same age as Craig himself.

The door to the court opens slowly and a head pops in. Even through his peripheral vision, Craig knows that signature door-opening method anywhere. It's the stupid prairie dog. And sure enough, Clyde waltzes into the basketball court, clad in his Gucci coat and sunglasses indoors. The juxtaposition of the basketball court and Clyde is enough to make Craig swallow the bit of vomit that's made its way into his throat.

Clyde passively makes a comment to himself about how bad it smells, and then he scans the court and sees Craig. Craig wants to smash his face into a wall for not hiding sooner, but he waves and smiles. They _are_, after all, supposed to be so close that an affair would be plausible.

Clyde primly sits down on Craig's left side. Organic, fair trade, skinny, soy chai latte in hand, he keeps his sunglasses on for whatever reason, and immediately sparks conversation. The stupid kid on his other side leaves.

* * *

><p>That night, Craig is again sitting in his portable.<p>

And he decides the knife is not important anymore.

* * *

><p><strong>Afternote<strong>: _Gasp!_ What did Stan and Craig talk about? That will be revealed in the next chapter. Also, yes, Clyde is a pompous rich bitch. I kinda love it.


	6. Half the Cutest Noncotient

The real shit starts to foreshadow here.

**Big fat warning**: **Character death, gore, disturbing thoughts and actions, heavy Clyde bashing.**

Disclaimer: Don't own South Park or Boards of Canada.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Telephasic Workshop<span>**

Chapter 5: Half The Cutest Noncototient

* * *

><p>School's been over for just a little over an hour, and Craig is working overtime, as always. He's been marking tests the entire time and it never fails to baffle him just how ridiculously <em>bad<em> some of the students can be. One can only be exposed to so much stupidity before going absolutely insane, and Craig is just barely on the threshold.

He's had _enough_. He drops his pen smack dab in the middle of writing a six, leaving it looking like some weird parathensis, and suddenly stands up. Running a hand through unusually disheveled hair, he sighs loudly. He needs a break. Perhaps a cup of coffee. Yes, coffee sounds good.

He turns the doorknob to the staff room casually, and peers in. And oh god, the prairie dog is there. He really didn't expect for anyone to be in the staff room at this hour. It's half past four, for goodness' sake.

Clyde looks up from his book in mid-sip from his organic, fair trade, skinny, soy chai latte, and immediately puts it down, "Craig!".

Craig smiles plastically and raises his eyebrows, "Clyde". He goes over to prepare the coffee machine, and then he walks significantly slower than when he was coming from the portable classroom, and reluctantly takes a seat across from Clyde at the table.

"Ohmygod, I have _so_ much to tell you!", Clyde squeals and doesn't hesitate to dive right in. Craig's plastic smile falters slightly and he wonders if he was better off marking those god-forsaken tests sitting in his portable. At least he got work done there. But perhaps he could try to get some information about Stan here.

If Clyde could stop rambling for just a moment, that is.

And without fully realizing it, his mind slips back to the day of the basketball tournament. The conversation that had ensued between Stan and him.

* * *

><p><em>-flashback-<em>

"Hey," Craig greets as casually as he can, and ignores the fact that he sounds noticeably out of breath. Stan looks up and the milk chocolate brown that pierces his gaze leaves Craig wondering if his blush is apparent, or if he's safe because his face should be red from the intense basketball anyways.

"Hi," Stan greets, happiness still lingering on his voice from his previous win. Craig grins because he can't help it, and he sits down next to him.

"Did you _see_ that 3-pointer I made just a few seconds before the game was over?", Stan exclaims, eyes beaming.

Craig has to hold back from chuckling, "I couldn't; I was playing the same time as you", he lies. In reality, Craig really _had_ seen Stan make the shot, and everything else he did.

Stan looked ponderous for a moment, "Oh yeah, that makes sense, I guess", pause, "I love B-ball, I play it with Wendy all the time," he says proudly, name dropping his girlfriend passively.

Craig mentally takes note of both facts. "It shows," he says with a smile, aiming to flatter him. Possibly bloat up his ego even farther. Because everybody knows that flattery will get one _everywhere_. Like personal information.

Stan giggles, because clearly it worked. "Nah, I think I learned more about B-ball when my cousin visited a couple months ago," Stan says passively.

Craig feigns obliviousness so as to not blow his cover, "Oh, your cousin visited?".

Stan nods like he's especially proud of this particular cousin, "He's incredible at B-ball. Taught me about how to hold it so it goes straight and how to jump so I get the most air... Y'know, that kinda stuff," he says, and Craig gets it. Stan does really like his cousin. Now he just has to be wary of any pre-existent incestuous feelings, but Craig remembers that Stan doesn't even seem to be into guys at all, so he lets it go.

The buzzer sounds, and it reminds Stan that he's up next too, "Oh, that's for me. I'll talk to you later, 'kay?", and doesn't wait for a response. Craig watches him jog off to his end of the court and greet his teammates, and in due time he gets up to go back to his own court on the other side of glass. A better view of Stan from there.

He takes a seat on the bench beside some stupid kid, and looks up at Stan across the other court through the glass. He's still gloating about his previous win, and Craig smiles and wonders if Stan really is the same age as Craig himself.

_-/flashback-_

* * *

><p>"Craig!", Clyde exclaims for the umpteenth time and snaps his fingers. Craig suddenly blinks twice and is back in the room. Clyde looks slightly annoyed, "Have you been listening to me <em>at all?<em>".

Craig's expression is blank as his gaze still seems distant, and he doesn't seem to have even heard Clyde ask him anything; he just blinks and says, "Hopeful".

Clyde squints his eyes and leans in closer, "What?".

Craig's expression doesn't change, but this time he stares directly into his eyes and poses the question, "How's Stan's cat?".

Clyde's expression, composure, and overall air around him, falter for a split second, into something forlorn, perturbed. And Craig notices.

A flash of something Craig's never seen before.

But he knows what it is.

Clyde suddenly returns to his normal vigor and responds, "Oh, um, the cat... she's fine".

But Craig seems to have completely ignored what he's said.

There's something else occupying his mind.

* * *

><p>That night, Craig is in his portable classroom, violently throwing his desk drawer completely out of its compartment. He falls on his knees, digging in the displaced drawer on the floor, throwing pencils and pens and erasers into a mass disarray around him.<p>

Suddenly he grabs what he's looking for, the utility knife, and retracts it back into its safety hold completely. He shoves it into his back pocket.

It doesn't show.


	7. Donuts For Two

When you see it, you will shit bricks. It all goes downhill from here, really.

**Big fat warning**: **Character death, gore, disturbing thoughts and actions, heavy Clyde bashing.**

Disclaimer: Don't own South Park, Boards of Canada, or Lipton.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Telephasic Workshop<span>**

Ch6: Donuts for Two

* * *

><p>Data management tests in hand, Craig opens the staff room door at 8:14AM. He's looking at the test at the top of the pile when he enters, closing the door behind him, but when he looks up, he gasps softly at the precious sight.<p>

It's none other than Stan, fast asleep, sitting at the table with his head nestled in his arms. Craig suddenly can't find the strength to breathe, and the room becomes deathly quiet, save for Stan's barely there gentle snores. Craig thinks that he might just _die_.

Then a flood of whichaway ideas start befuddling Craig's train of thought all at once.

Craig could easily take advantage of Stan right here and right now. Nobody's in the school at this hour (except Cartman, who never leaves his classroom, unless he'd cleaned out his supply of Cheesy Poofs, which more or less doesn't happen too often), so Craig wouldn't need to worry about being walked in on.

Or Craig could pull out his phone and snap about a hundred photos for safe keeping.

Or a _video_.

But he blocks out all of these notions. Stan would not take kindly to being photographed, filmed, or raped, during his precious sleepy time. And Craig agrees.

Craig's eyes shift to the coffee machine, which is completely idle. Of _course_ Stan couldn't figure out how to work the damned thing, so he got frustrated, and in a tired flurry, just fell asleep. Visualizing that scenario makes Craig want to chuckle. Then he decides that maybe he should make Stan's morning tea for him so when he wakes up he'll have a pleasant surprise.

He goes up to the coffee machine, and fixes it up like a pro in a jiffy. He opens the cupboard to see the variety (and he uses "variety" very loosely here) of teas that the staff room holds. He frowns at the small selection, but then he remembers a conversation that went down between Stan and him a while ago.

Stan had said something like "I love black tea! Wanna know why?", and of course Craig posed why with a very amused expression, "Because, it's the safest kind of tea for pregnant women to drink," he finished with a goofy smile, and then broke into a giggle.

Craig's still unclear about whether him loving black tea was part of the joke or whether that part was actually true. Either way, Bebe seemed impressed with the piece of knowledge when Craig passively said so during the "Bebe's pregant" days.

Craig finds the small box labelled "_Lipton Black Pearl_", and as he curiously wonders why they didn't just label it "_Lipton Black Tea_", he pours a generous amount into the coffee filter and puts it in place. _Click._

Craig turns back to face sleeping Stan, and he finds that he can't take his eyes off of him. Seconds turn into minutes as he's pulled into the trance of watching Stan's chest rise and fall just very subtly with his breathing, and listening to his quiet snores.

And in the blink of an eye, the coffee machine clicks itself off. Craig blinks profusely at the sudden sound, and with an "oh, right" expression, he turns to ready a mug. Whilst turned around, he hears Stan's snoring come to a sudden halt, and he turns his head 90 degrees to look back at him.

He almost drops the mug when he sees Stan blink drowsily, and then slowly sit up, rubbing his eyes, then stretching his arms. It is the cutest thing he has ever seen, and Craig has seemed to forget that Stan can see him. Through half-open eyes Stan murmurs tiredly, "Craig?".

"Uh", Craig seems to realize what he was in the middle of doing and turns his head away abruptly. He takes the cup of tea off the counter, and goes on over to the table. Sitting down across from him, he gingerly slides the cup over to his side.

Stan blinks groggily and then realizes what's been given to him, "_Aww_, Craig, you made this for _me?_". He picks it up and sips at the hot beverage, "Oh, it's black tea".

Craig suddenly realizes that this whole scenario could very well be what one would experience during their "morning after". And he stops himself from chuckling at the thought.

Stan starts again, but still half-asleep, "I-... I love black tea; know why, Craig? Because it's-", "-the safest kind of tea for pregnant women to drink," Craig finishes for him, visibly amused.

Stan blinks tiredly and there is a pause, and all he says is, "Yep", popping the 'P', and takes another sip. Craig has to chuckle this time.

Craig tries to initiate a conversation. "So, why're you so tired? Busy doing something last night?", he asks curiously, trying to sound as casual as possible. He waits for Stan to finish his sip and gulp it down, then Stan slowly puts the cup back down.

"I was up _all_ night Googling. For stores that sell wedding rings! I'm getting married to Wendy," Stan says and smiles, his groggy voice mixed with blissful happiness.

Meanwhile, Craig's eyebrows had gone so far up they'd almost disappeared under his bangs. An eyelash falls into his eye.

He doesn't move a muscle.

* * *

><p><em>Knock knock.<em>

Craig tries to muster up as much calmness as he can, shoving his free hand in his pockets and trying to maintain a casual-looking stance. In his other hand he clutches a cup of black coffee.

The door opens and out comes the stupid prairie dog. He seems pleasantly surprised, "Craig! Oh, um, don't you have a class this period?", he looks down at his hands and fidgets considerably.

"I made sure to put a movie on," he says without missing a beat, and when Clyde looks back up at him, he winks and smiles, and at that very moment he knew he was immediately putty in his hands. Terrible, terrible math question he is. Absolutely terrible.

"Here, this is for you," Craig says and presents him with the cup of coffee, "You seem to be pretty busy these days". He gasps and reddens noticeably, thanking him quietly and taking the cup.

He invites him in. They sit on top of two consecutive desks in a row, and Clyde takes his first sip.

He makes a face at how unusually bitter it is, and mumbles under his breath, "So bitter...", but he reminds herself that he does often takes his coffee with heavy tablespoons of sugar.

Then Clyde quickly initiates conversation so Craig doesn't have to.

* * *

><p>Craig glances at his Red Racer watch, and he realizes that the period ends in five minutes. "Um, Clyde, I think I should go; the period ends in five," Craig says, glancing from his watch to Clyde. Clyde stops rambling mid-sentence and looks sullen.<p>

Craig ignores this and gets up to leave. He suddenly feels his grip on his wrist, "_Wait!_". Craig turns, trying to hide his seering irritation, and Clyde is blushing profusely.

He looks down at his fidgeting hands and keeps his line of sight there. "Um, these past few months I really got to know you, and...I think you're really nice, and um, smart, and...I-I...", he reddens even more, "...I know you're probably not looking for a relationship, but...but...maybe you'd give me...a chance...". He's now so red that Craig didn't think it was humanly possible.

Craig looks away from his face casually to glance at his watch again. Three minutes now. "Uh, okay, that's cool," he says passively still looking at his watch, and then looks back up at Clyde, "hey, do you know anything about Stan getting married to Wendy?".

Clyde blinks dumbly out of shock, but still answers, "Yeah...they got engaged a few months ago".

Suddenly Craig's passive expression morphs into maddening fury. He glares at Clyde so hard his blood runs cold. "Why didn't you tell me!", Craig shouts, grabbing his thin wrist and gripping it so tight it hurts him.

The cross between confusion and anger forming on Clyde's face doesn't faze Craig, "Why do I _have_ to tell you something like that? Why're you so _pissed_ about it?", and after a brief pause, "And how _dare_ you brush off my confession like that!".

His resounding exclamation leaves the room deathly quiet thereafter. Craig reads the atmosphere and can fully tell that Clyde expects Craig to apologize sincerely and then maybe throw in an, "I love you too".

Craig drops Clyde's now raw wrist, and seems to have calmed down considerably. He solemnly looks at Clyde with an almost sympathetic smile, and asks him.

"You're a science teacher; you know what amobarbital is, right?"

He's caught off guard by this out-of-context question, and so he pauses out of sheer bewilderment. But he collects herself and steadily replies, "Yeah, it's an odorless truth serum powder that's slightly bitter," and he thinks the situation over again, "Why do you ask?".

Craig points at the empty coffee cup in Clyde's hand.

"Your coffee? Wasn't it a bit bitter?"

As the question sinks in, Clyde is rendered speechless. Craig continues.

"I was hoping the amobarbital would leak some info about Stan's little wedding, because you always seem to be a reliant source of information about him, but instead I got some useless girly love confession," the last part he says heavily accented with disgust.

Clyde looks shocked, appalled, and mostly scared. His mouth is open, but no words can come out. Craig calmly watches as the words, especially the part about Clyde's being a "reliant source of information", seep into his mind, and the trauma slowly forms.

But in due time, Craig gets bored of watching him trembling in a quiet mess on the desk.

"You're really just simple multiplication"

He takes the utility knife from his back pocket.


	8. Wholly Wholly Wholly

Hello, children of FF! I am not dead, no, but to be honest I wasn't sure when the next update of this would be. Thank your lucky stars (or not, if you don't really care for this fanfic) that I got a new computer and haven't been able to install my graphic tablet yet so I decided to finish the latest chapter to kill time.

I'm sorry it must suck; I haven't written in so long, and it's crazy short. I think I originally intended for this to be a short chapter but I'm still ashamed of it anyhow, ahaha.

**Big fat warning**: **Character death, gore, disturbing thoughts and actions, heavy Clyde bashing.**

Disclaimer: Don't own South Park, Boards of Canada, or Xbox.  
>"Julia Martin" of the "Colorado Police" is <strong>made-up<strong> and any similarities to any real person is purely coincedental.  
>The phone numbers I made up were the first numbers I saw on the barcode of a tube of toothpaste, they're <strong>completely random<strong> and **not** real phone numbers (I hope).

* * *

><p><strong>Telephasic Workshop<strong>

Chapter 7: Wholly Wholly Wholly

_'Have you seen this man?_

_Clyde Donovan_  
><em>Missing since May 9th, 2011<em>  
><em>South Park, Colorado<em>

_Age: 25_  
><em>Height: 5' 5"<em>  
><em>Hair: Brown<em>  
><em>Eyes: Blue<em>  
><em>Weight: 115 lbs<em>

_Clyde Donovan was last seen at work Monday, May 9th, 2011 prior to 10:00 AM. His classroom was left with most of his belongings. He was last seen wearing a Gucci jacket, jeans, and black Converse._

_If you've seen Clyde, thought you may have seen him, or know anything at all about his disappearance, please contact:_

_Det. Julia Martin, Colorado Police_  
><em>1-800-338-4977<em>  
><em>Colorado Police Silver Alert Issued<em>  
><em>1-800-897-7914'<em>

Craig snorts quietly every morning when he sees it on the back of his milk carton.

Craig can't remember how long it's been since Clyde was reported missing; a couple of weeks now, he fancies.

But Craig knows today is the anniversary of the day of Clyde's passing. Craig knows it's just a matter of time before the media stops acting like there's still hope in finding Clyde. It's been a whole month, for god's sake.

But Craig doesn't worry. The media wouldn't be finding Clyde's body anytime soon unless they bothered to search the Great Colorado Lake, a good few hours from South Park, and he knew the media would never bother to. Too expensive.

* * *

><p>One afternoon Craig is at the grocery store. He notices Clyde's idiotic face has disappeared from the faces of the cartons. The media's way of discreetly dropping a case.<p>

At work the school is so somber and empty that Craig at first questions if the apocalypse had occurred over night. Stan is torn asunder when Craig enters the staff room and collapses against him sniffling.

Craig clutches his dearest math equation close and inhales the scent of his shampoo as the only sound in the staff room is Stan's sobbing for a good half hour or so, Craig assumes.

When Stan finally collects himself enough to pull himself from Craig's hold, he hiccups out the only words Craig remembers that day.

"His funeral's next Tuesday."

* * *

><p>It's the first time in few years Craig's left his house with his raven hair completely exposed, the last time being when he attended his late grandmother's funeral when he was in middle school. He'd only met the pruny woman a couple times and he was told to act like he'd spent every living moment with her at the ceremony. His mother had bribed him with the promise of a new Xbox game while she was tying his tie that morning, only on the condition that little Craig would snivel and hiccup and wipe his eyes every once in a while.<p>

And after that debacle, Craig hadn't ever imagined he'd have to partake in something as ridiculous as that again. He ties his tie in front of the mirror and repeats his mother's words to himself. He recites to himself what his high school drama teacher told him about improvisation in an unplanned situation and portraying different emotions than what he was truly feeling. He blows the dust off his old dress shoes and find that they still fit.

The ceremony becomes a blur because Craig doesn't feel it's important to remember it. All he really remembers is the euphoric feeling of standing next to Stan during the ceremony and engraining the sound of his quiet sobs into his memory while maintaining a steady flow of tears and eye-wiping on his part.

Craig remembers going home that day wearing the lingering scent of Stan and a wet right sleeve.

* * *

><p>The day after the funeral, Craig is engulfed by students and teachers alike giving him their condolences. They do, after all, know that Craig and Clyde were like <em>two peas in a pod<em>. Craig saw it coming, he accepts their condolences and even gets teary-eyed. Because the audience _loves_ tears.

Sometime during the lunch hour, Stan quietly knocks on Craig's door. Stan sputters about he knew Craig and Clyde were _so_ close and that he knows it must be really hard for him. Craig doesn't like seeing Stan unhappy, and he's getting tired of talking about such a useless character. He changes the subject bluntly while toying with his white-out tape in his hand.

"When's your wedding?"

Stan's caught off guard and stares dumbly for a moment and then his next expression could only be interpreted as "_Oh I'm sorry, it must be too painful for you to recall memories of her_".

Stan tells him, it's in a month.

* * *

><p>That night, a flock of pigeons perched on the roof of Craig's portable classroom suddenly take flight and disperse when a fit of uncontrollable laughter echoes from inside.<p> 


End file.
